


Light and Dark

by pronnpto



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:15:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27127774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pronnpto/pseuds/pronnpto
Summary: After the events atop Mt. Gulg, Emet-Selch has some choice words for G'raha Tia. What he wasn't expecting was for him to talk back.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Light and Dark

As Emet-Selch looked out over the Scions, the corners of his lips curled down. Their fight against Vauthry was a joke; despite being raised with the powers of a Sin Eater and the ability to control them, he was no match against the Warrior of Darkness. Still, she wasn’t infalialliable, and the sweat that dripped down her brow told him more than enough about her state.

The Light was killing her; her victories against the Sin Eaters was transforming her into one of the very creatures she sought to destroy.

Still, as Emet-Selch watched from on high, he noticed that she never faltered. The gunblade she danced around the battlefield with was a far cry from the staff she used to wield, many eons ago, and the drastic change caused his heart to ache. Fyn, the Warrior of Light and Darkness both, is not Persephone, no matter how much he may wish it to be true. Here and now, and he watches her clash with Vauthry, he finally, begrudgingly comes to terms with this truth. As the monster that he all but raised himself falls to the ground in defeat, fading away into nothing, he begins his descent, only to stop when he notices the figure looming into view.

The Crystal Exarch, a man not of the First yet beloved by all, stood a ways away from the group, and even from here he can sense the tense atmosphere. Fyn’s ears flicker and her tail bristles at whatever is said, and despite his curiosity, Emet-Selch stays away, watching the situation unfold. The Crystal Exarch stands before the party and begins channeling aether, and the light within Fyn slowly begins to ebb away. Despite being hunched over and taking slow, laboured breaths, it looked as if a weight from her shoulders was becoming lighter with each passing moment. 

And at the climax of it all, the Exarch’s hood flew back and Fyn’s shoulders shook as she looked on in shock. 

Emet-Selch did not know the man that stood before the Scions and the Warrior of Light, but he did know that he meant something to Fyn; he saw it in the way her aether crashed like the sea of the Tempest: surging waves of emotion swirling together and colliding against one another. The way her heart hovered between joy and sorrow, and then heartbreak and hope felt like a slap to the face. A scowl tugged at the Ancient’s lips, and without a moment of hesitation he descended, prepared to once again take the reins of the situation.

There was no more time for silly distractions or games.

The barrel of the gun was smoking, and before he knew it he was looming over Fyn. His mind was a haze, and his heart was in a similar state to her own. Yet when he saw the pure hatred that shone in her eyes despite the incredible pain that flashed through her body, Emet-Selch knew that it would be fruitless to say anything here. To try anything. 

Her skin was pale, and sweat rolled down her brow. Fyn’s golden eyes burned with hatred, yet she was only able to maintain eye contact for so long. Her shoulders heaved as she fell, retching pure, white light all over the immaculate and intricate flooring below them. This continued for a few moments until she was barely able to support her own body. Emet-Selch reached out, tugging her chin so that they made eye contact. She furled her lips, fangs barred as he spoke softly so that only she would hear.

“My pitiful hero, if you wish to be relieved of your pain meet me in the depths of the Tempest. There, you shall meet your end.” He steps back, glancing at the body of G’raha Tia that lies battered and bloody a few feet away. With a snap of his fingers, he is gone, and he can’t help but take pleasure in the flare of anger he feels coming from Fyn. “If you wish to reclaim the false hero,” Emet-Selch continues, turning over his shoulder, “he too, shall be in the Tempest.” 

Emet-Selch hovers high above the party, locking eyes with Fyn until she is nothing more than a speck in his eyes. Yet even though his eyes couldn’t see her, her aether was blinding and bright. _Some things never change_ , he muses. For now, all that is left for him to do is to await the Warrior of Darkness’ arrival at their old home.

* * *

G’raha Tia’s eyes flutter open, and he’s greeted with darkness. A faint line of light shines from a ways away, but the lack of light made it nearly impossible to see what was before him. It was suffocating, and the ache of the bullet wound on his side dragged a low groan from his lips. His ears flicker as the sound of fabric swishing catches his attention, and he looks up to see Emet-Selch materializing before him. As his eyes adjusted to the dark he could see the frown that mars his features, and G’raha can’t help the chill that runs down his spine.

He had heard tales of the great Emet-Selch from the Warrior of Darkness and her allies, yet they always spoke of how tired and easy going the Ascian was. Yet here, in the pitch black of an unknown prison, he seems much more like a predator out for the kill. Sensing his unease, the Ancient lets out a bellowing laugh, snapping his fingers as fire dances across his gloved hands, flying across the room to brighten it, if only slightly. 

“Was that really the best plan you could come up with, oh wise Crystal Exarch?” There’s a bite to his tone that has G’raha Tia’s tail bristling, but the constant throbbing of the wound at his side urges him to be compliant, if only for now. He remains silent, unsure of how he should react in this situation. Instead, he allows Emet-Selch to take the lead, something he’s sure the Ascian is most thrilled about. 

“No matter,” he continues, sauntering closer, “for now, I need to keep you alive. You’re quite an important bargaining chip.” His golden eyes glow in the light of the fire, yet his gaze was distant. 

“Why?” G’raha Tia managed to grumble, surprised at how heavy his tongue was and how difficult it was to speak. Swallowing, he continues, “What good is it to keep me alive?” In response Emet-Selch clicks his tongue and locks eyes with him.

“What do you mean ‘why’? As I said, you’re an important bargaining chip. With _you_ by my side, the great Warrior of Darkness is bound to join us.” Once again, G’raha Tia can’t help but look into his eyes; once again, they are swirling with an emotion just outside of his understanding. Emet-Selch smirks, his teeth glowing in the dim light. “After all, what kind of savior would she be if she refused to dive down to the depths to save her love?”

_Ah._

“You love her.”

Silence falls over the room, thick like a blanket, and even G’raha Tia is shocked by his own words. That glint in his eyes, the tone of his voice: they were all signs of a feeling he was all too familiar with. Pain and longing had accompanied him for as long as he had been on the First. The time he and Fyn had spent together back on the Source was ever his hope. The memories lit up his darkest nights when he thought all was lost. 

So how could Emet-Selch have the same telltale look in his eyes?

The silence lingers for a while longer, and were it not for the fact that he was already bleeding out, G'raha Tia would worry over the elder man’s reaction. Yet, the unending silence was more than enough of an answer for him.

“It’s not much a surprise, I suppose,” he begins, tearing his gaze away and focusing on the flames just out of his reach. Just like Fyn, they shone bright and true, a light even here in the deepest, darkest depths. “She’s endearing, charismatic, and-”

“ _Enough_.” Emet-Selch’s voice sends a shiver down his spine. The flames flicker and the heat radiating off of them grows stronger. “You speak as if you know her well, Crystal Exarch,” he spat, “yet what do you know? After all, she didn’t seem to know who you were up until you nearly killed yourself. Hiding away from her, keeping your _identity_ to yourself: surely you can’t say you love her.”

G’raha Tia laughs, despite the throbbing at his side. He looks up to meet Emet’s molten gaze, his anger marring his handsome features. The aura radiating off the elder man was electric; there was a tiny voice in the back of his mind, whispering for him to keep to himself. What good would it do to get killed now when he was so close? All he had to do was await her arrival.

But that was the source of all of his worries.

As Fyn descended into madness, slowly and painfully shifting into one of the creatures she swore to destroy, he sat locked away as a captive. As much as he hated to admit, things hadn’t changed since their time together on the Source. His time on the First wherein he acted as the Crystal Exarch didn’t magically make him a Warrior of Light. He was no hero of legend. At the end of the day, he was simply a man trying his best to save the world. 

“You see,” he begins, meeting Emet-Selch’s burning eyes, “I love her, too. Perhaps even more than you. I did what I did to keep her _safe_. There are times she acts foolishly, chasing her emotions rather than what she knows to be the logical decision.” G’raha Tia pauses, mulling over his words before continuing, “There had to be a villain; a reason for her traverse across time and space to the First. That is where the Crystal Exarch comes in.”

The man looming over him shifted, the light from the flames warming his face. “As an unknown figure who dragged her and her loved ones away from the Source, he would be a wild card. She wouldn’t know whether or not she could trust you” Emet-Selch looked down at G’raha Tia, eyes glazed over. At that moment, he couldn’t tell whether he would laugh or cry. “Why is it that all of you shards are self-sacrificing _idiots_?” 

In that moment, as he met his captor’s gaze, G’raha Tia knew that he and Emet-Selch were one in the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading; I hope you enjoyed! This was another commission for my friend Korey over on twitter! I absolutely love writing about Fyn and G'raha, so it was a treat to be able to write about Emet-Selch too!! If you're interested in having something like this written, feel free to reach out to me over on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/Maggiekcrp)!


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